None of this was supposed to happen.

The thought was almost funny in its simplicity, but it was the only one that had returned to Leia again and again since she'd first heard about Scarif. How many days ago was that? She had no sense of time.

As soon as the medal ceremony finished, everyone dispersed under orders to start breaking the outpost down for evacuation. Leia stood next to a doorway, unsure of what to do. Everyone around her seemed to have a job, seemed to know their momentary objectives. Luke even moved with purpose, following the lead of some of the other pilots. She had only been instructed as far as the end of the ceremony. She knew they were evacuating, but she didn't know anything else.

She wanted to lean against a wall or a tree or anything, but the adrenaline rush she'd been running on for what had to be days now had faded rapidly and she was beginning to feel the effects of her treatment aboard the Death Star. Her muscles ached and chills racked her body every few minutes. Leaning against anything would only serve to aggravate the angry skin on her back.

"You look dead on your feet," a familiar voice drawled.

Leia looked up at Captain Solo as he leaned against the wall next to her. "Better than actually dead they tell me," she said faintly, unable to infuse the humor she intended into her voice.

"When'd you sleep last?"

She didn't know. "How many days ago was Scarif?" Does he even know? How would he?

"Not sure."

Leia blinked and stared at the soldiers loading crates and hauling them to various ships. She'd been near Tatooine when they'd been boarded. The droids wouldn't have had far to go. "When'd you leave Tatooine?"

"Ah." He rubbed his jaw. "'bout four days ago."

Luke had said he'd had the droids a night before setting out with General Kenobi. "I was there five days then, I think. Maybe six. I…don't know if I slept. Not on purpose. I didn't want…" She couldn't think of a way to finish that sentence that wouldn't lead to questions she didn't want to answer.

Captain Solo squinted at her. "You should get some rest."

She shook her head and gestured to the dozens of beings milling around them. "We're kind of in the middle of an evacuation."

"Yeah, but do you have an assignment?"

She shook her head again.

"Look, Princess—"

"Leia," she said softly. "Just…Just Leia." She wasn't a princess any more. She didn't know what she was.

"Leia," Captain Solo corrected. "Chewie an' me are helpin' with the evac before we head out. The Falcon's got extra bunks. You wanna get some sleep while we get this place packed up? It's probably your last chance for awhile."

Leia stared at him. She didn't know when it had begun, but she'd started to feel as if her head wasn't quite tethered to her body. "I should help."

"You have anything to pack up?"

She hesitated. "I suppose not."

"And no one assigned you anything."

"Right."

His mouth quirked slightly. "Sounds like no one'll miss you if you catch a few minutes of rest."

Leia knew he meant well, but the statement stung. Though, she couldn't deny what he'd said was true. She wasn't even supposed to be here. No one would miss her. They might be relieved to not have to look at her.

She should help. I should help. She wanted to help. But her body didn't feel like her body any more and the burning on her skin was overwhelming and she couldn't feel her face. She wasn't positive she'd be able to make her hands and feet obey her mind.

Leia nodded. "I don't want anyone to think I don't want to work."

"No one thinks that."

She studied his eyes in the pink-and-orange light of the setting sun. "What'll you say if someone asks what I'm doing?"

"Prolly just tell 'em that you took one look at their set up here, decided you had better accommodations on the Death Star, and left to commit double treason." He was smiling in a way that told Leia she should laugh, and the nudge he gave her shoulder confirmed it, but she couldn't even force the most basic courtesy chuckle. Captain Solo seemed to take the hint. "I can tell 'em whatever ya want me to."

She considered the offer. She was truthfully afraid she'd have trouble sleeping despite her utter exhaustion, was afraid she'd feel on edge in a new place surrounded by people she didn't know. Her parents knew many of them, and Leia knew some of them as well, but there were so many strangers, and for every stranger who'd treated her kindly over the past week, there were five who'd caused her harm. There were very few she'd trust enough to sleep around at the moment. At least Captain Solo and his ship were known and somewhat trustworthy.

Leia nodded slightly, the movement causing her entire body to sway in a way that felt dangerous. "Okay."

"C'mon." He jerked his head in the direction of his ship, an expression almost indicative of relief on his face.

The burning just under her skin was becoming unbearable. Leia had showered aboard the Millennium Falcon, had done her best to clean the garbage water from her wounds, had managed to treat the ones on her stomach and chest and arms with antiseptic she'd found in the 'fresher, but so many were on her back, she wouldn't be shocked if some of them were infected. She hadn't been to medical, hadn't even mentioned the need. She'd wanted to be in the command center during the battle, figured there was no point in spending time getting wounds tended to if they were all about to die anyway, and she'd rather feel useful and know what was going on. She also didn't want strange hands touching her. There had been too many strange hands on the Death Star, too much handling of her body. She didn't want to be touched by anyone new, anyone strange.

But she did need the wounds at least looked at. She'd briefly considered asking Luke, but he struck her as squeamish for some reason, and she was a little concerned he'd get it in his head that her exposing the amount of skin that would be necessary to assess things meant something. She needed someone who would take it in stride.

Captain Solo wouldn't make things awkward, she was fairly sure. He might make a snarky comment, but that she could handle. And they'd already hugged twice — once in the excitement of not being dead in a garbage compactor, once in the excitement of not being dead post-battle. His hands weren't strange, at least, even if they'd only known each other roughly a day.

"Do you know any field medicine?" Leia asked as the smuggler's ship entered her view.

Captain Solo glanced at her. "Do I look like a medic to you?"

"No, but you look like someone who gets shot at a lot."

He chuckled. "Can't deny that I s'pose. Why you askin'?"

She dug her thumbnail into the side of her finger. I can do this. I don't have to tell him anything extra. I just need to know if they're infected. "I have some wounds on my back that are beginning to feel off. I just need to know if they look infected. I don't want to distract medical while they're trying to pack up."

He stopped walking and Leia followed suit, nearly stumbling as she told her feet to stop moving. Captain Solo stared at her, concern etched in his features. "When were you injured?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I was in Imperial custody at least five days." She hoped he understood, hoped she wouldn't have to talk about it.

He swallowed uncomfortably, as if hearing something he'd dreaded. "They interrogated you?"

Floored by his naïveté, Leia's response had an exasperated tone to it. "What did you think they did with me? Stuck me in a cell with a snack and left?"

"Thought maybe you were being held hostage for negotiations." He shook his head slightly, as if he knew what he was saying made no sense. She'd been set for execution. Executing a bargaining chip would've been a stupid move. "You weren't movin' like you were injured on the Death Star. I thought maybe you'd just been there a few hours. Maybe they hadn't gotten to you yet." He began walking again and Leia had to jog a step to catch up. He stared at his ship, didn't look at her at all. "They use the rack or the droid?"

She frowned, looking at him skeptically. How does he know so much? "Both."

Captain Solo swore under his breath. "You shoulda gone to medical as soon as we landed."

"I felt okay when we landed. Adrenaline, I think." She paused. "I can get treatment when we get to wherever we're going. I just want to know what I'm dealing with. I was hoping you could take a look and not make it weird."

He nodded slightly as he entered an entrance code on a panel on his ship. The ramp lowered. "Yeah, of course."

They entered the ship. Captain Solo pointed Leia in the direction of the crew cabin before disappearing, mumbling about needing to find something. She glanced around the room. Luke had slept in one of the three bunks during their trip to Yavin; Leia had stayed awake, sipping caf offered by Chewbacca. I wonder where Chewbacca sleeps. The bunks seemed too cramped for the Wookiee's towering frame.

Leia wanted to sit, but was afraid if given the chance, she'd collapse before Captain Solo had the opportunity to assess her wounds and she didn't want to drag that out any longer than she had to. He finally returned, carrying a metal case that had spots of rust on it and was missing a latch.

"We try to keep stocked up on first aid supplies. Since I get shot at so much." He offered a slight smile.

Leia removed the heavy necklace that she knew covered at least an injection site or two and set it carefully on one of the bunks. She reached back to try to get at the fasteners on her dress and pain shot through her back and arms. She inhaled sharply.

"Is it makin' it weird if I offer to help?" Captain Solo asked carefully.

Leia let out an incredulous laugh. What even is this situation? "Given the circumstances, no."

He undid the fasteners without further comment. The air on her irritated skin felt nice. "Where'd they find this getup anyway?"

Leia huffed softly, pressing her hand to the neckline of the dress to keep the loose fabric in place. "Apparently, when the Alliance learned of my ship's destruction, my father authorized a raid on my apartment on Coruscant. I had documents…data chips."

"And they thought formalwear and necklaces were top priority?"

Leia bristled at the criticism, though she'd also found it odd hours earlier being presented with an ensemble she'd worn to a formal Senatorial event just a week prior. She'd borrowed the necklace from her mother, had had a dress of Breha's altered to fit her frame. The outfit itself had been a statement at the time: I'm the crown princess of Alderaan. I'm a grown woman like my mother, and like my mother, I will be taken seriously. I'm a senator like my father, like the rest of you. Stop dismissing me. "They didn't know what was important, where I might've hidden things. It was easier to just take everything, I suppose."

"Your dad around, then? Since he gave that order?"

Leia's stomach twisted and tears sprung to her eyes. She dug her fingernails into her collarbone, the sharp sting a distraction to keep her from sobbing. "No, General Dodonna said he was home with my mother when…"

"Oh. I'm sorry."

She nodded, unable to say any more about her parents without losing control entirely. Captain Solo was quiet as he looked over her back. Unease trickled over her and she felt as if she might vomit. "Will you…How bad is it?"

He hesitated a second longer and Leia had to work to suppress her panic. She wasn't even sure why she was panicking. Nothing he said would be surprising.

The sound of his voice calmed her slightly. "Looks pretty bad. Definitely some infected spots. Might have some scarring." He sighed heavily and moved so they were face-to-face. "Don't suppose I'll be able to convince you to hit up med for anesthesia and proper treatment."

It wasn't a question and somehow that made Leia feel better about shaking her head. "I just need to get through the evacuation and then I'll go." As she said it, it felt like a lie. The very idea of an anesthetic shot caused panic to seize her lungs again. She would not go to medical if they wanted to give her one of those.

"Really shouldn't wait on the worst of these and some of 'em need to be cleaned out before we go covering them with bacta patches. Don't want new skin generating over debris."

"Okay."

He looked her in the eye. "It's gonna hurt bad, sweetheart."

Leia shrugged. "Okay." Nothing could hurt worse than what caused them. Nothing.

Captain Solo seemed tremendously uncomfortable. Had the circumstances been different, Leia might've been amused to see the man who'd been so overly confident less than a day prior so unnerved, but she just wanted all of this over with. He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. "Can't believe I'm doing this," he mumbled, seemingly to himself, before clearing his throat and addressing Leia. "You want some whiskey before I clean 'em out?"

Whiskey? She couldn't have heard him correctly. "Whiskey? To…to drink?"

"Might help with the pain."

Oh. Right. She'd heard of that sort of desperate use of booze on battlefields when supplies ran low and before anesthesia and stim-shots were widely available. Leia had never had whiskey before, but it seemed better than the alternative. "I guess. Sure."

Captain Solo nodded and left the room abruptly without another word. Leia felt a bit of relief that he didn't close the door despite most of her back being exposed to the world. She'd spent enough time staring at four walls to last the rest of her life.

He returned and handed her a glass containing a minimal amount of amber liquid. "All at once."

Leia looked at it suspiciously. "Is this even a full shot?" She threw back the liquor, only grimacing slightly as she swallowed against the burn.

"You're little and I'm not tryin' to get you smashed; just tryin' to help dull the pain."

Captain Solo opened the battered med kit and shuffled through supplies until he was satisfied he had what he needed. He approached Leia's back again. She felt her entire body stiffen.

"Will you…" She truly felt as if she might fall over. Between the lack of sleep, the floaty feeling in her head, the fuzziness caused by the whiskey, and whatever was causing her to tremble all of a sudden, it seemed as if her body and mind might give out at any moment. But she needed to ask…needed him to… "Will you talk if you're behind me? I'm—I keep feeling—I just need to know it's you and not someone else."

"Sure." Captain Solo cleared his throat. The sound of packaging being removed from something filled the room. It took a moment for him to speak again. "Someone sneak up on you in your cell?"

He was being polite, not saying what they both knew he meant. Leia hesitated. She didn't want to talk about it. But he was being vague enough that she thought he might know that already. She bit her lip before answering. "Something like that."

A pause, then, "'f you wanna talk about it—"

"I want to forget about it," Leia said tersely.

Captain Solo didn't press. "Think the lighting might be better in the 'fresher," he said apropos of nothing. Leia frowned. The lighting in the cabin seemed okay, but she followed him into the cramped space anyway, too tired to protest. He had her stand in front of the sink. "Mirror reflects the lights. Makes things brighter."

Leia looked at the mirror he referred to. It was slightly above her eye level and didn't seem to make the light any brighter than the cabin had been, but it did catch Captain Solo's every movement behind her. She could see his face clearly in its reflective surface. Leia felt some of the tension that had popped up out of nowhere dissipate.

"They took everything out of your apartment?" He brushed something cold and damp over a portion of her back and Leia sucked in a sharp breath. The scent of antiseptic filled the small space.

"That's what Wedge—Lieutenant Antilles said." Leia gripped the edge of the sink with her free hand and continued to press her dress against her chest with the other, nails digging into her clavicle.

"Any idea where it is?"

Sharp, burning pain stole Leia's breath for a moment. As it faded, she was able to say, "I don't know. They brought in a crate with my clothing so I could get ready for the ceremony. Didn't have much. Most of my everyday pieces were traveling with me and most of my special occasion dresses were at home." She carefully avoided saying Alderaan; she was certain she'd burst into tears if she had to speak of her lost planet.

"Where'd you get ready?"

"Some antechamber in the temple. I honestly don't know if I could find it again without help." She looked at Captain Solo's face in the mirror. He was maintaining composure, examining her wounds carefully before choosing the next one to tackle. "How do you know so much?"

"The beauty of bein' a genius like me, sweetheart, is that it just sorta comes natural." He glanced up at the mirror with a sly grin on his face. He knew he was being absurd.

Leia rolled her eyes. "I mean about Imperial imprisonment. I've barely had to say anything and you seem to know what happened."

"If you've seen one Imp interrogation, you've seen 'em all," he said, focusing on a new wound. Leia resisted grimacing as long as she could while burning pain assaulted her body once again. The trembling she'd been experiencing became more pronounced. "I was at Carida."

Leia studied his face for a moment. He was very focused on whichever wound he was tending to, so much so that one might mistake it for blatantly avoiding eye contact. "Did you get expelled or something?"

Captain Solo's eyebrows shot up, but he still didn't look up. "Now, why'd you jump straight to gettin' expelled?"

Leia couldn't help but smile at the mild irritation in his voice. "Because every former officer I've met leads with their rank and branch. 'I was a Corporal in the Army.' That sort of thing."

"I was a Corporal in the Army," he said flatly, finally glancing up. "After I got kicked out of Carida. Didn't much care for either. Bailed pretty quick."

"'Bailed' like went AWOL?"

"'Bailed' like took some property that wasn't theirs to begin with after being given a death sentence and disappeared."

"Oh, so you've definitely got a bounty on your head."

He met her gaze in the mirror, a smile playing on his lips. "You have no idea."

Leia snorted. "Try me." She was confused by her own amusement and blamed it on exhaustion. It wasn't funny, a bounty. She'd just found out about her own a few hours before. Mine is a little funny, she mused. She was, to her knowledge, the only person the Empire insisted had been tragically killed during the destruction of her ship who also had a ten-million-credit bounty on her head.

"I got a couple," Captain Solo said. He didn't elaborate.

"I heard today that mine is ten million."

His eyes widened and he whistled. "That's…something else."

Leia worried for the briefest moment if divulging that had been wise. He'd all but bragged about being all about money; he could easily take off with her right then and drop her with the Empire. The concern faded quickly, though. The man might not want to admit it, but his actions just in the past day had proven time and again that there was more to him than that. And there was just something about him…Leia trusted him — perhaps not as a flawless rescuer, but as a person — and her intuition about people was rarely wrong.

A large shudder passed over Leia's body and the trembling started back up. She was getting a headache, was so, so tired. Captain Solo studied her in the mirror briefly before unwrapping a large bacta patch.

"You've been awake five days?" he asked. Leia shrugged slightly. "Hold still." He smoothed the patch over her right shoulder blade and opened another. The bacta cooled the angry skin beneath the patch and Leia let out a sigh.

"I don't know. I don't remember sleeping the whole time I was in the cell, but I don't know what was in the syringes. It's possible I forgot or didn't realize—"

He shook his head and applied the second patch, gently pressing the edges down. "They probably had you on stims to keep you awake. Would explain the shaking now."

She squinted. "Stim-shots are supposed to help you fight through pain, though. The serums hurt." It was a laughable understatement. The serums had been the most excruciating experiences Leia had ever had. She hoped they would continue to hold that distinction for the rest of her life.

"There are stimulants that just keep you up. Might've been one of those, not what's in stim-shots." A third patch was applied to her lower back carefully.

Leia hoped that was the case. The alternative...Well, she hoped the bacta did its job at least partially before the drugs fully left her system if it wasn't the case.

"Should I have had alcohol?" Leia remembered something about that, stim-shots and alcohol together being a bad idea, but she couldn't recall why.

"Probably not," Captain Solo said, his tone more unsure than Leia had ever heard it. He frowned as he applied a fourth patch and refastened her dress quickly. "Can't do anything about it now."

Leia gripped the edge of the sink with both hands. Her head pounded. She felt too inside her body now. "I think I need to sit down."

Captain Solo helped her to the nearest bunk, the one where she'd set the necklace. He rinsed the glass that had held the whiskey and filled it with water before handing it to her. Leia sipped it, hands trembling.

"You'll be okay," he assured her. "Shakes and a headache are usually the worst of it. Sleep'll help." He sounded unsure again and Leia wanted to point that out, to ask what he was concerned about, but she also wanted to sleep, and she didn't think demanding an explanation would be conducive to that goal.

She picked up the necklace and ran her thumb over the ridges carved in the cool metal. She'd known this necklace her entire life — it had been passed to her mother by her own mother, a House of Organa heirloom. Now, Leia supposed, it was hers. The idea was strange.

"Leia?"

She jerked to attention. Captain Solo was looking at her expectantly. He must've asked her something. "Sorry. I must have…I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"What'd you want me to say if people ask where you are?"

"Oh." Leia let out a mirthless laugh. "Ah, you can tell General Dodonna and Luke where I am. Maybe you just haven't seen me if anyone else asks."

"Copy that." He gave a lazy salute and made his way toward the door.

Leia stared at the necklace in her hand again, trembling fingers tracing its details. "Captain Solo?" she asked, looking back up to see if he was still nearby. He was very near the doorway.

"Yeah?"

The words rushed out before Leia had a grasp on what she wanted to know. "Do you think everything happens for a reason?"

He hesitated. "No."

"I was adopted," she said by way of explanation. Captain Solo appeared very confused, but Leia continued on. "I was adopted. My parents had been thinking about adopting a baby girl and then my father found me and if it hadn't been me, if it had been someone different or if they hadn't adopted anyone at all, maybe they wouldn't have used…maybe Alderaan would still be here. Maybe they would still be here." Her hands would not stop trembling. "I used to think some sort of destiny brought me to my parents. The Force, a goddess, something bigger than us. It seemed too perfect to not be that." She shook her head. "I hope it was random chance."

Captain Solo cleared his throat after a moment of silence. "There are extra blankets in there if you get cold," he said, jerking his head in the direction of a row of lockers across from the bunks.

Leia nodded and looked up at him once more. Everything felt hazy, heavy. "Thank you, Captain. For everything."

He nodded. "Call me Han," he said and left the room.

Waking felt like coming back from the dead, or as close to it as Leia could imagine. Her limbs felt heavy, useless. Her head and muscles and bones and skin and teeth and hair ached. She glanced around the unfamiliar space, body trembling or shivering or shaking. I'm on the Millennium Falcon, she reminded herself. I'm not trapped.

The door to the cabin was wide open. Leia didn't remember asking Captain—Han, he'd said to call him Han—to leave it open, but she hadn't closed it, either. She was glad. The light streaming in from the rest of the ship, the exit readily available…both contributed to keeping the hovering panic at bay.

She heard voices, could sort of make out what they were saying if she concentrated.

"…don't leave her be, I'll have Chewie string you up by your toes." Han. Obviously.

"She needs to get to her transport in time—" Luke. That twinge of a whine Leia had picked up on a few times was out in full force. It made her want to cringe and hug him and glare at him all at once.

"Already checked with Dodonna. Her transport's not leavin' for a couple hours. Hyperdrive motivator's being worked on. He said he'd stop by if anything changed."

Leia's head swam. Captain Antilles' voice echoed in her head. Your Highness, I'm afraid the hyperdrive is malfunctioning. We've been reduced to sublight speed.

Luke's voice cut through the memory. "I wanted to check on her before I have to leave is all."

"You'll see her at your rendezvous point. Let 'er sleep."

"At least close the cabin door then if—"

"She left it open. If she wanted it closed, she'd have closed it. Leave her be."

Leia was at once grateful for Han's insistence she be left alone and a bit miffed that he apparently thought her fragile enough to need his interference. A horrifying thought hit her at once: what if he told General Dodonna about me being…snuck up on… She felt nauseous at the consideration.

Or maybe she was just nauseous. Leia lurched from the bunk and made a beeline for the 'fresher, where the meager contents of her stomach made a reappearance. She sat on the floor until her belly calmed, chills rocking her body again. Using the sink to pull herself up, she stood on shaky legs and splashed cold water on her face, hoping it would shock her body into normalcy.

She turned to return to the bunk and started at the tall, lanky figure in the doorway. Han looked at her, eyebrows raised. Luke hovered behind him.

"All right?" the captain asked calmly.

Leia nodded weakly and sat on the bunk before burying her head in her hands, feeling slightly mortified. There were a number of bodily functions that princesses did not participate in as far as the public was concerned; vomiting was most certainly one of them.

I'm not a princess any more, she reminded herself bleakly. She was pretty sure even non-princesses didn't want to find themselves throwing up in the presence of others, though. This embarrassment seemed more universal than anything else.

When the two hovering men didn't leave the doorway, Leia lifted her head and looked at them. "I'm fine. Probably just whatever they gave me leaving my system."

"Whatever who gave you?" Luke asked, his eyes wild with concern. He looked at Han. "Did you give her something?"

Han's eyes hadn't left Leia. He seemed to want her to do the talking. Understandable. Even if he wanted to mention the whiskey, that opened him up to a whole litany of questions, many of which she didn't want anyone answering.

Leia shook her head and drew her thighs to her chest, spreading her dress so it covered her legs and resting her back against the bulkhead. "Had some injections on the Death Star," she said, simplifying the explanation in hopes to deter further questions from Luke. "Don't know what all was in them. Probably detoxing now. I'll be fine." She curled herself into a ball, forehead pressed to her knees. Wisps of hair that had fallen from her braids wafted against her neck, feeling loud against her skin somehow.

Someone nudged her knee gently and Leia lifted her head slightly. Han held a glass of water and a damp rag that had seen better days. She took both, pressing the rag to her cheek briefly before draping it across the back of her neck and sipping at the water. Han pressed the back of his hand to her forehead in a gesture that was a touch too abrupt to be considered gentle.

"Got a fever I think," he said gruffly, pulling his hand away.

Leia nodded. "Why not at this point, right?"

"Med hasn't left yet."

"I'll go after—"

"Would really prefer if you went now."

She met Han's gaze. He seemed tense, coiled and ready to spring into action. "I think all things considered, a fever's the least of my concerns."

Han glanced back at Luke before continuing. "Could mean infection's gettin' in your blood. Really don't want a dead princess on my hands if I can help it."

"Afraid they'll ask for a refund?" Leia intended for her words to have a teasing note to them, but they sounded bitter leaving her mouth.

Han stared at her stonily a moment before breaking his gaze and shaking his head slightly. "Yeah, that's it." She couldn't decipher his tone, but he almost seemed offended.

"Leia, if you're sick you should go to medical," Luke said, taking a step toward the bunk.

Everyone was too close and there wasn't enough air. The cabin suddenly felt half its size and there were too many people less than an arm's reach away sucking all the air out so there wasn't any left for her. Leia shifted her weight until she was crammed in the corner of the bunk. The pressure from the wall on her back ignited some of the dormant wounds, forcing a hiss through her teeth as invisible fire licked at her skin.

Han muttered something to Luke and the room felt bigger. Leia looked up at the two men, feeling at once exposed and as if she could at least breathe again. They were farther away than before.

"Luke," Han said, jerking his head toward the doorway.

Luke appeared mildly affronted, possibly a little hurt by the suggestion that he leave. Leia met his gaze and tried for a smile, no matter how weak. "I need…just for a second, Luke," she said softly.

"Leave the door open," Han added, driving home the unsaid message Leave. Now.

Luke left with a final glance back at her and Han sat on the floor at least a meter away. He looked as if he were attempting to calm a scared animal and Leia couldn't stop her mind from conjuring up images of a sickly pittin she'd found as a child. The pathetic creature's fur had been so light and sparse that its skin showed through, casting a pinkish hue over its tiny form. It had taken seven-year-old Leia an hour of sitting as still as her ever-busy body and mind would allow to coax it from its hiding spot in one of the palace gardens, and it took two hours after that for it to breathe its last breath.

She was separated from her mother too early, love, Leia's mother had said as Leia wept over the loss. She'd stroked Leia's hair, her voice soft, kind. Something must've happened to her. Mothers don't leave their babies when they still need them unless something forces them apart.

Leia's chin trembled at the memory. Unless something forces them apart echoed in her mind. She pressed her face to her knees again. Leia had been the catalyst in forcing her mother to leave her, her father to leave her, in forcing her friends and family and home and every pittin and nerf and tree and mountain and everything she'd ever known to leave her. They got to be gone while she was left in this horrifying middle space — not dead, not gone, but not here, either. Not really.

Han had been saying something in a low, careful voice, his tones more comforting than Leia expected to hear from him. She hadn't absorbed a word of what he'd said.

Your Highness, I'm afraid the hyperdrive is malfunctioning. We've been reduced to sublight speed.

He'd said something earlier about the hyperdrive on her transport. Leia lifted her head so she could look at the lanky man, obviously uncomfortable on the floor, still over a meter away. "Have you seen the transport I'm assigned to?"

Han scrunched his brows together, an expression of confusion taking over his face. Whatever he'd been saying likely had nothing to do with her transport. "Ah, yeah. They're gettin' 'er tuned up before you leave."

"What's wrong with it, do you know?"

"Hyperdrive needed somethin' done to it. Sounded like they have it figured out."

I'm afraid the hyperdrive is malfunctioning. We've been reduced to sublight—"What sort of ship is it?"

"CR90 corvette."

Her stomach twisted and she lost all feeling in her face. The Tantive IV had been a CR90. The logical side of Leia knew it was coincidence, not an omen — not even a coincidence; a statistical probability. Two-thirds of Alliance transports were CR90s; they were very common corvettes across the galaxy. But the logical side of Leia also needed more than a couple of hours of sleep over a five-day period to be fully functional.

…the hyperdrive is malfunctioning. We've been reduced to— "I'm not getting on that ship," she said, infusing every bit of resolve she possessed into her voice. She still heard a tremor.

"Sounds like it's the only option for ya, Princess—"

"Leia," she corrected. "Please. I'm not…not any more."

"Leia," he said quietly. "It's the last transport out."

Your Highness, I'm afraid the hyperdrive is malfunctioning. We've been reduced to sublight speed.

"I can fly. I—I can fly whatever's around. An unclaimed X-wing. A hopper. Something."

"Don't think there are any unclaimed ships. Seem to have several pilots without ships already."

She shook her head firmly and the rest of her body seemed to tremble in response. "Then they'll have to leave me here. I'm not getting on a corvette with a broken hyperdrive."

reduced to sublight speed.

"You're not leaving with a broken hyperdrive."

Neither did we, Leia thought. The Tantive IV had suffered damage and repairs had been performed quickly and incompletely, but the hyperdrive had technically worked…until it didn't, at which point they'd been taken over.

"We were seconds from Tatooine at lightspeed." She sounded weak, distant, like someone else was controlling the volume and strength of her voice. That floaty feeling that had clung to her before her nap returned.

the hyperdrive is malfunctioning…

"I don't even know what happened to everyone else." That felt like a lie. They were dead. Leia hadn't seen the bodies, but escape pods had been fired on and the Tantive IV had been destroyed, so whether they'd tried to escape or tried to hide, they were gone. It was possible some had been taken aboard the Star Destroyer that had intercepted the ship, but Leia imagined any that had had been killed. She'd been set for execution herself, after all.

When Han finally spoke, he sounded unsure, like he was working to piece things together as the words left his mouth. "Your ship's hyperdrive failed?"

Leia nodded slightly. "We knew it was damaged — we were leaving an energy trail — but it worked. And then it stopped working." She focused her eyes back on him, steeling herself for a fight. "I'm not getting on that ship. They can't make me."

The way Han looked at her bordered on pitying. Leia could barely stand it, though she was sure she'd brought it upon herself. "Aren't you helpin' run this thing? Can't imagine they'll be keen to abandon you here."

Leia let out a sardonic laugh, trying for careful carelessness so he'd stop looking at her like she was broken. "What gave you that idea?" Helping run this thing? I'm nineteen.

"No one wants to abandon you—"

Of course he assumed she'd zeroed in on the self-pitying portion of the comment. She interrupted before Han could finish his sentence. "This thing has existed in some form or another practically since I was born. What makes you think I'm helping run anything?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. The way you went charging off my ship and knew every general in the building? Heard you hung out in the command center the whole battle."

"You heard it because it was noteworthy. I'm not even supposed to be here."

"I heard it because the person saying it kept goin' on about how glad they were that you were there."

Leia's chest felt tight with emotion. She wondered who the person was who'd uttered those words in the presence of a stranger. It almost gave her hope that, when the dust settled a bit, she would have a place there, that she wouldn't be whisked off to a safe house somewhere like Mon Mothma had been to be kept pristine so no one had to worry about her, that she'd have an assigned purpose now that her purpose of heritage was meaningless.

And then he had to go and ruin it.

"They couldn't stop talkin' about Organa's leadership and how this operation would've been dead in the water a long time ago without it."

Leia felt her entire being deflate. "They said that? Organa's leadership?"

Han nodded, a small smile on his lips. "That's you, right?"

She shook her head, blinking back tears. She'd held them back this long; she could wait awhile longer to cry. "That's my father. Was my father. They wouldn't call me 'Organa'." Her voice didn't break, not even a little. Even as her words echoed in the hollowness that had developed in her chest and belly, bouncing off the walls of her insides like blaster bolts in that garbage compactor, there wasn't a tremor. She could be strong. She didn't need to break.

Han didn't seem to know what to do with the information, and for a split second, Leia felt a cruel sense of power at being able to render the mouthy captain speechless. Then the guilt of using her father — her father — to make someone else feel uncomfortable pummeled her like a wave.

"I'm not getting on a CR90," Leia said, hoping that distraction of bickering would obliterate the pedestal of grief and sadness she could feel Han constructing in her honor. With all he'd learned about her that day, he'd yet to start treating her like she was precious. She didn't want it to start just because he'd made the fairly understandable mistake of assuming the Organa someone referred to was the only one currently on base. She looked him in the eye. "Your hyperdrive works," she said. "Against all odds, but it got us here."

Han gave her a look and shook his head. "Just one problem with whatever plan you're concocting right now, sweetheart: me an' Chewie, we're leavin'. Got a debt I need to take care of and I need to work a few more jobs before I'll be able to pay it off."

"I'm sure we would pay you to help with the evacuation," Leia said. "We could probably use the cargo space."

"I could use a stiff drink," Han muttered, rubbing his forehead.

"How serendipitous that I'm a fantastic pilot," Leia mused, easily pulling him into a negotiation before Han had a chance to notice. "Chewbacca and I can handle the flight while you break that whiskey back out for yourself."

"Over my dead body," Han said, pointing a finger in her direction, his expression a mixture of irritation and consternation.

Leia ignored him. "I even speak a little Shyriiwook. We'd probably get on just fine."

"Look, sweetheart, I know you're used to getting whatever you want—"

The laughter that overtook Leia was freeing in its simplicity and concerning in its intensity. Getting whatever I want? How absurd. Once the first laugh escaped, she felt as if there was no stopping another and another and another from rolling out of her body. She'd never had a panic attack, but she wondered now if it was possible to laugh herself into one. With that idea in her mind, she wasn't shocked when, after a few seconds, an unwelcome sob erupted from the hollowness in her chest.

Leia screwed her eyes shut in embarrassment, jamming the knuckle of her forefinger between her teeth, hoping the action would jolt her out of the show of emotion. She'd never particularly suppressed her feelings — hidden them when appropriate for the situation, yes, but regular expression and exploration of emotions had been encouraged by her parents. She knew if she gave herself over to them now, though, she would simply never stop sobbing, and that wouldn't do for Bail and Breha Organa's daughter, for the Young Senator Organa, for an active Alliance member.

Pull yourself together, Leia.

Han was thoroughly unnerved. She could practically feel the discomfort emanating from him without looking at him. Luke was in the doorway again she was pretty sure, no doubt beckoned by the sound of her singular sob. His presence had a sort of weight to it that made a room feel different. She couldn't place her finger on how.

Leia swallowed and opened her eyes, surveying the two men. She was mortified. First vomiting, now sobbing. What's next? She straightened her spine, placed her feet on the ground, and tried for dignified. She'd found over the years that sometimes simply ignoring the embarrassing thing and acting as if nothing bothered her convinced others it hadn't happened in the first place.

No apologies. Just move on.

"Everything okay?" Luke asked, eyeing Han warily.

"Yes," Leia said evenly. "Everything's fine. When are you set to leave, Luke?"

He checked his chrono. "Half an hour or so."

"So soon?" He nodded, stifling a grin. "Have you done your preflight checks already?" Asking something so obvious felt borderline insulting, but Leia knew Luke wasn't a seasoned pilot, or he at least hadn't had to prepare for long, off-world trips.

Luke frowned. "Mechanics checked everything."

Leia shook her head and noticed Han doing the same. "You wanna run the checks yourself, kid," he said before Leia had a chance to say anything. "Here, I can show you." He headed toward the open doorway, glancing back at Leia. "You staying put?"

She nodded.

"We can continue this discussion in a bit."

She tilted her chin up and folded her hands primly in her lap. "There's no discussion. I'm not getting on a CR90."

"Yeah, that's the one. We'll talk more later."

Han left the cabin and Luke stepped closer in his absence. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked softly.

Leia pulled the now-warm, damp rag from the back of her neck. Han was right; she was running a fever. "I'll be fine," she said, trying her best to convince them both.

Luke squatted so he could meet her gaze more easily. He glanced back in the direction of the open doorway. "You sure? He's been kinda surly."

Leia laughed. "I think his cynical side just doesn't know what to do with the Alliance. We are foolishly optimistic. We sort of have to be. He's been mostly kind to me, though. Very helpful." She immediately regretted her words, wondering if Luke would question her statement further or find it peculiar in any way. She didn't want to answer questions about how Han had been helpful because they would likely lead to questions about what she'd needed help with and she wasn't prepared for those.

Luke didn't press. "Oh," he said. "Well, I'm glad." He reached for Leia and it took too long for her to interpret his movement, for her to deduce that he was offering or perhaps wanting a hug. In the time it took for her mind to understand, her body had recoiled, knees again pulled to her chest. Luke stood to his full height without touching her, a perturbed expression on his face. "Sorry. I—I'll see you in a bit, I guess."

"Yes," Leia said, maintaining the cool demeanor that she hoped would save her from some embarrassment since her body seemed to now have a mind of its own. Luke seemed confused, maybe a little hurt as he walked toward the exit. She felt bad. "Luke?" she called after him. He turned in the doorway. "Clear skies."

He grinned and Leia felt her heart swell with something akin to affection. "You too, Leia."

"Ya comin', kid?" Han's voice sounded distant, as if he were halfway off the ship already. Luke gave Leia once final wave before leaving her to herself.

Leia flopped onto her side in a manner that would've had even her less-than-formal parents wondering aloud where, exactly, she'd been raised. Curling her hands to her chest and pressing her teeth to her knuckles, she released a pent-up sob. Every part of her trembled, every part of her ached. She could only hope she'd be able to reign herself in by the time Han returned. He likely wouldn't want someone on his ship who seemed unstable.

Leia pondered what she could do to convince him to transport her to their next location. She couldn't get on a CR90, especially not one with a failing hyperdrive. She didn't have any money — her accounts had all been frozen, she'd been told. She had very little to her name — her apartment on Coruscant had been comfortable and practical but hardly filled with luxuries; whatever they'd managed to grab would likely be worth little to the likes of Han Solo.

There's always me. The thought was both unbidden and unwelcome, and it caused Leia's stomach to churn. It wasn't something she'd have considered before, but things had changed. It all seemed less precious now. Women did it all the time, didn't they? Offered their bodies in exchange for what they needed when other options failed to present themselves? And at least this time, it would be her choice…

Leia bit her knuckle hard, jerking herself out of the line of thought. She knew better than to resign herself to the idea that what she did no longer mattered simply because a couple of troopers had considered it their right to…sneak up on her, as Han had so delicately put it. She knew better than to feel sullied by something so unbelievably outside of her control, and yet the feeling was there, making its home under her ribs, pressed against her lungs, making breathing a chore.

Not for the first time in the past week, she wished for her mother's gentle hand stroking her hair and back, wished for her father's embrace and loving words. He'd trusted her. He'd trusted her more than anyone, and he'd ended up dead because of if. She wondered if they'd seen it coming, if they'd felt anything. In the moment, Leia had imagined the cries of every person on her planet, pain-filled shrieks overwhelming her senses before being abruptly silenced, a sickening vacuum of souls. It had felt far too real at the time, though she now knew it had likely been a side effect of the drugs. They'd made her see, hear, and feel things, horrible things as they entered her system; why not as they wore off?

She hovered in some liminal state between sleep and waking for minutes or hours or days. The sound of heavy, padded footsteps and a Wookiee's soft warble pulled her back into consciousness. Chewbacca stood in the doorway of the cabin, his towering frame nearly blocking all light infiltrating the room from the hold. He stared at her curiously and asked a question.

Leia hadn't been lying to Han; she knew a little Shyriiwook. She also hadn't downplayed her level of understanding; it was truly a little. She knew Chewbacca had posed a question from his tone and she'd caught the words sleep, good or perhaps well, and some word that she associated with palace decorum, though she couldn't place her finger on its meaning. She squinted at the Wookiee.

"I'm sorry, Chewbacca," she said softly, her nose infuriatingly stuffy from her earlier sobs. "My Shyriiwook is a little rusty. Would you repeat what you said? More slowly?"

The impact of some of the tonal changes were lost slowed down, but Leia thought she understood the gist of his question. "Did I sleep well?" she asked carefully. Chewbacca nodded and Leia found herself nodding right back, though she wasn't sure she'd ever sleep well again. "It's been better than the not-sleeping I've been doing the past few days," she conceded with a halfhearted shrug.

Chewbacca responded with another question, this time going through the motions of sipping out of an imaginary mug.

Leia tilted her head. "Caf? I don't think—we think I was kept on stims for a few days. I probably shouldn't—"

He shook his head and spoke more carefully.

Leia recognized a tone or a sound — something that triggered a memory, an association. "Tea?" she asked. When Chewbacca nodded in confirmation, she felt herself grin, strangely proud that she'd been able to recall anything. It took her noticing he was staring at her to realize he was waiting for a response. Leia bit her lip. "Tea would be lovely. Thank you."

The idea of sipping tea casually in the crew bunk felt oddly intimate to Leia considering she barely knew the captain of the ship or the first mate brewing tea. But they'd all almost died together multiple times; surely that sort of bond counted for something. Anyway, Leia was too exhausted to even consider moving to a common area and was relieved that Chewbacca seemed to have intuited as much. He brought her tea in a small, chipped, yellow mug, the same one she'd drunk caf out of…was it just yesterday? The day before? Leia wasn't sure, but she took the mug just as carefully as she had then, glad to hold something warm in her hands as chills passed through her body.

Chewbacca turned to leave after depositing the earthy, barely sweet drink, but Leia called after him. "Chewbacca?" The Wookiee turned and looked at her. Leia swallowed, the apology she'd meant to utter hours or days before getting lost on her tongue. She took a sip of tea and looked in his eyes. "I'm so sorry. For what I said before, on the Death Star, calling you a…" Leia trailed off, worrying her lip. She could barely bear to think it, much less say it. Wookiees had seen so much prejudice and abuse at the hands of the Empire; the fact that she'd so flippantly resorted to name calling based on appearance sickened her. She began again. "I'm sorry for saying—"

Chewbacca interrupted, saying something that Leia's formal Shyriiwook texts would have translated as tapestry promenade, but she felt safe in assuming he'd paraphrased the insult she'd uttered. She stared at her tea and nodded.

"Yes. That. I'm so sorry. It was demeaning and not indicative in any way of how I regard you or Wookiees in general. You've been very honorable, brave, and kind. You weren't deserving of that. No one is, really, but you especially aren't."

He stepped close to her, ruffled her messily braided hair lightly, affectionately, and said something that Leia swore translated to [You were having an exceptionally bad day], which felt both appropriate and like the understatement of the millennia.

She snorted. "I suppose I was, yes." She lifted the mug slightly and looked at him again. "Thank you. For the tea."

Han's voice rang through the ship. "Chewie? Could use your help."

Chewbacca gave Leia one final pat on her head in an almost-parental gesture and warbled something vaguely soothing before leaving to help Han. Leia sipped the tea he'd brought her and closed her eyes.

The sound of something heavy dropping on the deck plates in the cabin jerked Leia out of her quiet reverie. Her eyes shot open in startled confusion. Han stood in the room next to a crate, a sheepish expression momentarily on his face before smug confidence replaced it. Leia couldn't stop staring at the crate. It looked like the one her mother's dress and necklace had been in, but for all she knew, every crate on base was identical.

"Okay, here's the deal," Han said. He stooped so he could look at Leia. "If you get cleared by medical first, I'll drop ya where you need to go."

She couldn't take her eyes off the crate. "Are those my things?" she whispered.

"Some of 'em. Chewie's gettin' the other crate."

Two crates, one of them small enough for Han to hand carry. That was what remained of Leia's possessions. She was so caught up in considering how surreal it was that it took her several moments to fully process what Han had said.

She sat forward on the bunk and looked up at him. "You'll fly me?"

"Only if medical says you won't keel over on the trip. Got it?"

Leia always got the last word in a negotiation. Even if what was being offered was exactly what she wanted, she still always went in with a slight deviation of terms, a small addition or change. It kept her sharp, reminded those making offers exactly who they were dealing with, forced them to take her seriously. She had neither the mental capacity nor the desire to change anything about Han's offer. She didn't want to be seen by medical, but if a once over by a field medic would keep her off a malfunctioning ship, she'd gladly agree. Just this once.

Leia's eyes burned with tears and she wiped them with the heel of her empty hand, careful that her movements didn't cause her tea to spill. She sniffed and looked at Han again, nodding vigorously. "Yes. Okay. Please. Yes."